All posts by tudyhill

My-Life-in-Middlemarch

Encountering the personal side of literature

I want[ed] to go back to being a reader (p 9), declares Rebecca Mead, after her career in journalism. This is how I feel, now, after a stimulating summer season of exploring, discussing, and sharing our writings on Middlemarch. Challenged to produce an essay after each book, I appreciate those of you who responded to my efforts! This ninth article is the hardest to initiate, perhaps because I was missing more of George Eliot’s narrative, and I found Mead’s approach tedious. Too many threads of new information of hers and George Eliot’s lives; I had a hard time staying with her theme to link their experiences to the characters in the novel. Nonetheless, I am impressed that Mead has read Middlemarch so often, through various life stages. Her persistence and curiosity to discover what influenced and motivated Eliot to imagine a life of innovative realistic fiction has given me pause to consider my own recollections and their connection to why I favor certain characters.

 

As a serious, though naïve, freshman at Hollins in 1969, I was interested in learning. Thankfully, my mind was open to whatever education flung my way, although, in retrospect, I give more credit to the professor than to my zeal. I took a chance and signed up for a course on the Old Testament, taught by chaplain Alvord Beardslee, after my preferred course, psychology, was filled. Similar to when Lydgate opened a book on Anatomy, and his life was changed in an instant (p 52), so was mine when Mr. Beardslee pointed my spirit toward another way of being, and reflecting. His intellectual and religious viewpoints challenged my childhood preconceptions. As Dorothea was an earnest, unconventional heroine, like her author (p 13-4), I, too, was attracted to a more unusual path. I majored in religion, and chose to spend my junior year at St Mary’s Divinity School in St Andrew’s University, Scotland. Ironically, during my time there, I acted more like Rosamund and Celia, deciding to enjoy the attentions of handsome and interesting men. But, stirring beneath the fun, was my deep yearning for a meaningful life (p 21), like so many of Eliot’s characters who sought fulfillment via relationship and/or vocation. I pursued a nursing career after Hollins, longing to alleviate the suffering of others (p 18)… no surprise that Dorothea’s, Lydgate’s, and Mrs. Bulstrode’s situations spoke to my own consciousness about how compassion, in varying degrees, is experienced.

 

Religion was never mentioned in Middlemarch, and Mead touched on this. I admired both Eliot’s genuine love for her father, and her candid admission in a letter to him regarding her resistance to his Christian faith. This notion- that we each have our own center of gravity, but must come to discover that others weigh the world differently than we do- is one that is constantly repeated in the book. The necessity of growing out of such self-centeredness is the theme of Middlemarch (p 159). Eliot told her story from the perspective of many characters, so that we, her readers, could release our arrogance in order to appreciate the notion of sympathy (p 158). Thank you, George Eliot, for helping me accept Mr. Casaubon and Rosamund. I think I was more drawn to them, instead of Raffles, because of the esteem I felt for their spouses.

 

Virginia Woolf’s now familiar observation that Middlemarch is appropriate for “grown-up people” (p 47) continued to intrigue me. How have I ‘grown up’ since Hollins, and does this mean I enjoyed Middlemarch more than I would have 40 years ago? My ‘soul’ is still recognizable to me, my emotions are heartfelt, and I strive to share empathy. I recognize the characters of Dorothea and Lydgate; but, thanks to Rebecca Mead’s research (p 164), I also acknowledge Mr. Casaubon’s dread of failure and, even, his caution with those close to him. Eliot’s style of probing our psychological depths appealed to my questioning nature. WHO are we…and WHY are we this way? In my 50s, this yearning I had for something more, turned into learning, as Mead describes Eliot (p 41). Living in a medieval town in England for 10 years, allowed me an opportunity to study to become a guide in St Albans Abbey. My peers were retired history professors, architects, civil servants; all of them educated in the English system. I learned through error, practice, and strong support from the group of 100(!), to become passionate about sharing this unique abbey with the public. My spiritual motivation drove me, keeping me sane in demanding situations (like presenting a lucid explanation of the Abbey’s historical, artistic, liturgical space to large groups). And I was reminded, when Mead explained her thrill at handling Eliot’s manuscripts (p 200), of my work transcribing 18/19th century vestry minutes. I inhabited that era for several years as I labored to understand and communicate that part of Abbey history.

 

A book may not tell us exactly how to live our own lives, but our own lives can teach us how to read a book (p 110). As I continue to ‘grow-up’, exploring my desire for an intellectual life, along with a passion to understand compassion and sympathy- the ethical precepts that Eliot believed were worth salvaging from the Christianity she had rejected ( p 224), I realize that life is not ideal, but it is satisfying; without many regrets, I am grateful.

 

Tudy Hill

 

Book-Eight

A Roller Coaster of Emotion

Book 8 brings to a close my dynamic journey amongst selected characters in George Eliot’s Middlemarch. My particular favorites, Dorothea and Lydgate, faced difficult situations in their marriages, but never ultimately submitted to the anguish they suffered. Rather, they shared a personal honesty that won me over.

 

Dorothea’s impetuous generosity (p 733) gave encouragement to Lydgate when everyone else, including friendly Mr. Farebrother, doubted the young doctor’s conduct. Her bold attitude countered the prevailing opinion that Lydgate accepted a bribe in order to protect his community reputation. Tertius, overwhelmed by Dorothea’s belief in his goodness, unburdened his marital troubles, including his wife’s rebuffs, to this gentle, trustworthy soul. Dorothea not only listened with keen empathy, but she was impelled to call on Rosamund, urging reconciliation between husband and wife. I observed in Dorothea’s behavior a brave and unconventional woman who behaved unselfishly. Her argument that human nature may be rescued and healed (p 735) might sound naïve… until her return trip to the Lydgate’s house after the horrifying shock of discovering Will sitting (intimately, in her opinion) beside Rosamund. The young widow’s pride and self-assurance vanished as she supposed Will’s love for her to be a sham. Yet, during an agonizing night, she came to the conclusion that three lives (p788) (Lydgate, Rosamund, and Will) depended on her ability to free them from permanent self-destruction. Her decision contrasts with Rosamund’s high opinion of herself in which she expected marriage to be a glory to her (p756). Bitter (and immature) disappointment drove Rosamund to cling to the mistaken belief that Will would suit her better. Listen to the author’s accurate description of the Lydgate’s level of communication: the silence between them became intolerable to him; it was as if they were both adrift on one piece of wreck and looked away from each other (p 756)…an evocative image.

 

Dorothea’s motives, as pure as they appear, may have arisen from the need to distract her empty heart. Rosamund’s surprise at not receiving Dorothea’s anger at her return, resulted in a release of mutual sorrow, and for a minute or two they clasped each other as if they had been in a shipwreck (p 797). Dorothea’s vulnerability and insight from her own short marriage, prompted Rosamund to disclose the true object of Will’s affection. Hopefully Dorothea, so full of kindly feelings towards men, experienced a fresh appreciation of marriage, full of an unleashed passion from her chaste soul. And even though Rosamund lost an imaginary lover, she remained the focus of her husband’s affection, never realizing the pain and disappointment she triggered in his heart. Lydgate had chosen this fragile creature, and had taken the burthen of her life upon his arms. He must walk as he could, carrying that burthen pitifully. (p 800)

 

Lydgate’s attraction to lovely Rosamund was the source of his unceasing devotion to a wife who became his downfall. He recognized his illusory hope for their relationship to deepen in fellow compassion. Loyalty to her, above his own sensibility, compromised his aspirations for a career of progressive medicine, supported by research. It was heartbreaking to me when Lydgate came to the realization that only those who know the supremacy of the intellectual life- the life which has a seed of ennobling thought and purpose within it- can understand the grief of one who falls from the serene activity into the absorbing soul-wasting struggle with worldly annoyances (p 737). His decision to face the town’s defamation of his personal integrity and medical practice was a poignant turning point in his career. Perhaps the loss of Lydgate’s enlightened approach to medical treatments was the cause of his early death from a common infectious disease. I think Dorothea’s words are a fair tribute to him: To love what is great, and try to reach it, and yet to fail (p 764).

 

Three more couples deserve mention. The Bulstrode marriage can be summed up in the quotation before chapter 74: Mercifully grant that we may grow aged together (Book of Tobit, Marriage Prayer). Like Dorothea with Mr. Casaubon, Mrs. B dutifully and lovingly stood beside her husband, despite disapproving and hurtful comments from her circle of acquaintances. She was a loyal spirit (p 749), but she had real feelings and needed to sob out her farewell to all the gladness and pride of her life (p 750). Mrs. B. embraced humiliation, by removing all that was superfluous to her previous existence, as she tenderly and compassionately bore her husband’s shame with him. I respect her decision. I also wonder if Dorothea, whose temperament of mercy, pity, love, and peace, embodies William Blake’s quotation from the ‘Songs of Innocence’ (p 760), will reach out (in days to come) to the innocent wife of Mr. Bulstrode? I expect the woman who lived faithfully a hidden life, and rests in an unvisited tomb (p 838) remained true to herself.

 

Mary and Fred, who represented humor and hopefulness, especially for each other, achieved a solid mutual happiness (p 832). When Aunt Bulstrode sought to do something charitable for her brother’s family, it was Fred (who was given Stone Court) and Mary who benefitted.

 

Celia’s devoted sisterly love for Dorothea was her one encouraging attribute, in my opinion. She and Sir James Chettam deserve each other’s trivial quest for acceptability.

A sunset of dreams ended in sorrow for the Bulstrode and Lydgate marriages. A sunrise of love finally united Dorothea to Will, and Fred with his Mary. George Eliot’s talent to explore so many sides of our human psyche lent maturity to her novel Middlemarch. I was satisfied with this book for grown-up people (p. xxii, Virginia Woolf).

 

Tudy Hill

Book-Seven

Responsibility respected…or shunned?

Two persons are tempted… but, in my opinion, one will survive intact, while the other collapses. The author’s skill of maintaining interesting dialogue, stimulated by exceptional portrayals of how the human mind thinks, is fascinating. George Eliot has a true gift for analyzing why people make the choices they do.

 

Lydgate was not held in high esteem by the local community, so his credit crisis is met with derision. Partly they are influenced by his ability to carry off the prettiest girl in town (p639); and Middlemarch doctors are apprehensive of Lydgate’s vision of medical reform, because it might dislodge their own unchallenged position of authority. Rosamund belonged to the town/she was one of them; therefore, any financial arrears must be due to the outsider ’s flaws.

 

Lydgate, an innate ‘giver’ (to his profession and to his wife), did not grasp the extent of his overspending until he realized that his job was not sufficient to support their lifestyle. Rosamund, always the center of attention, could not comprehend any needs or desires but her own.

 

When Mr Farebrother noticed that Lydgate seemed bored (p641), he offered a friendly ear, but Lydgate felt threatened by this innocent gesture. The young physician was afraid to lose control of his life and admit failure in both marriage and profession. Plagued by monetary worry, he was distracted from his enthusiasm for medicine. Prospects were grim when he confessed to himself that incompatibility is chiefly between scientific ambition and a wife who objects to that kind of residence. (P 679) Reaching out to her, emotionally, she responded with a lukewarm regard, and Lydgate dreaded a future without affection (P 649).

 

Rosamund did not have the ability to comprehend another’s viewpoint if it caused pain or discomfort to herself. Her retorts to Lydgate regarding why they must downsize, centered on social class and personal riches, and she blamed the lowering of his reputation, not her own selfish fears. Lydgate’s anger was stoked when she made financial decisions behind his back. Making no effort to work with him, his emotional outbursts only convinced her of her own virtue. Rosamund had learned how to manipulate the social system of male dominance, using pitiable complaints and tears… forcing her husband to back down on any rational proposals to deal with their debt. When her plans went awry, he shouldered the burden and disappointment. Rosamund’s feminine charms were her impenetrable defense.

 

What frightened Lydgate most about their vulnerable relationship? To lose his love for her, would mean there was nothing to bind them. So the young physician gave up his unrealistic expectation of an ideal wife who would devotedly honor and obey him. With the added disappointment of ignoring his research, he couldn’t bear to lose anymore of his hopes. Rosamund, on the other hand, gave up easily, when her airy conditions for happiness in marriage had not been met (P 661).

 

What could Lydgate do besides beg, borrow, or gamble … none of which fit his temperament. Pushed to the brink, he showed up at the local pub, startling Fred, who immediately turned away from his plan to gamble that night. Sensitive souls, like Fred and Mr. Farebrother, saw through Lydgate’s strange behavior, as they provided temporary rescue.

 

Soon enough, Lydgate’s humiliating circumstances compelled him to face Bulstrode, asking for a gift of 1000 pounds. At first, the banker denied, until the sorry episode with Raffles triggered an immediate change of heart. Bulstrode’s ‘gift’ was only offered with the intention of preventing the anguish of an imminent disgrace (P 688). But his devious payment to his protege is secondary to the evil deed he committed of Raffles’ murder. How heart-rending, but true, that a ‘man of God’ chose the path of dishonesty, initially to expand his ministry, but ultimately believing that his way was more important than God’s way. Bulstrode lost respect for human compassion, thus God’s voice was silent in his consciousness. Lydgate’s suffering on account of his natural empathy has the potential to result in his renewal; whether that includes his marriage remains to be seen.

 

Tudy Hill

 

 

Book-Six

Mirror Images

I am curious by the title of Book 6…’The Widow and the Wife’. Is George Eliot referring to one person, or two? Spiteful Mr. Casaubon, in a final attempt to restrict his wife’s future, drew attention to the possibility of Dorothea as Will Ladislaw’s wife. Both characters are forced to deal with this news, leading to more conflict in Middlemarch.

 

Chapter 54’s heading (La Via Nuova) guilelessly captured Dorothea ‘s perceived saintly qualities, at least in the eyes of a certain beholder. Lest the reader become too enamoured by this flawless depiction, however, the author followed immediately with a humorous account of why Dorothea could not bear to be around her sister and the infant Bouddha (p535) any longer… even D. admits to boredom. The truth of doting mothers who insist on being the center of attention made me chuckle in appreciation!

 

The new widow returned to Lowick Manor from her sister’s home. Fair-minded by nature, Dorothea believed that she ‘owed’ money to Mr. Ladislaw, based on her husband’s financial support in the past, and Will’s eagerness to spend it. The codicil opened her mind to another possibility. Unwittingly, Mr. C. mistrusted her faithfulness, causing Dorothea to imagine her friend as something more… now her soul thirsted to see him (p 539). Their encounters made them aware of a shared sentiment, which was new in Dorothea, but maturing in Will. As he shifts from a selfish playboy, to a serious, even noble, lover (from a distance), he refuses to beg for money, and decides to leave the woman he idolizes. But, first, Will longs for some unmistakable proof that she loves him (p 545). Will’s pride is dependent on such confirmation, in order to sustain and launch him towards a political career, away from Middlemarch. But does Will love Dorothea enough to admit his own feelings? Is he willing to be as vulnerable as he hopes she will be for him? Meanwhile, Dorothea misinterprets his immanent departure, concluding that only a friendship has been terminated. She did not know then that it was Love who had come to her briefly… (p 548).

 

A shocking revelation to Will and to the reader occurs at an unpleasant meeting with Bulstrode. Will is offered restitution for his mother’s stolen inheritance; the unchallenged, arrogant banker, is insulted when Will refuses: You shall keep your ill-gotten money (p 624). At this point, I sensed a profound transformation in the core of Will’s character…standing up to the most powerful man in town, Will departed with fresh dignity and a secret hope (p 627) to make something of himself. His subsequent conversation with Dorothea, fraught with awkwardness as both tried to speak the truth, ended disappointingly in a brusque farewell. The love they felt for each other, remained unspoken.

 

So, when Book 6 ends, ‘the widow’ has not become ‘the wife’. Perhaps Rosamund is ‘the wife’, particularly in her contrasting role to our protagonist. Lydgate has impetuously married the lovely, but shallow Rosamund, whose goal is material possessions and rising social class. Her doctor husband, however, is preoccupied with medical reform, and he has no money. Each lived in a world of which the other knew nothing. (p 165) Deterioration of their relationship is inevitable…and the irony is that Dorothea as a wife fulfills what Lydgate naively expected from Rosamund: (an) accomplished creature who venerated his high musings… would never interfere with them; …would create order in the home and accounts with still magic…marriage would not be an obstruction but a furtherance. (p 352) Dorothea’s desire to please, to learn and to make the world a better place, obstructed her decision to marry Mr C., just as Rosamund’s narcissistic mindset manipulated Lydgate to enter into marriage. Both women‘s circumstances make the reader uneasy… thus sustaining our attention.

Tudy Hill

Book-Five

Remote Control?

 

Can a person have influence over another, even in death? Yes, in Mr. Casaubon’s case, who continued to wield unwelcome control over his young and innocent wife. Throughout their short time together, Dorothea was dutiful, in all circumstances, to an older, aloof and selfish husband. In fairness, I doubt Mr. C was aware of any other kind of behavior. As Eliot describes him often, Poor Mr. Casaubon…. seemed incapable of tenderness or romantic passion. I would be surprised if the marriage was ever consummated. How much did Dorothea contribute to this unfulfilled marriage? Her experience with emotion is uncertain. In Book 1, she admits to tears when hearing a particular organ play, yet this response is immediately downgraded by her uncle. I think this impressionable, intelligent woman takes very seriously her role as older sister, and views her life as worthy based only on her accomplishments and ability to help others. Perhaps she accepts the old man’s offer of marriage because she does not feel threatened by any expectation of intimacy, or even attention to her womanly nature. Mr. C perceives that his own life may be improved with the aid of someone to help him with work and household, and Dorothea mistakes this need for affection.

 

Her guileless conduct towards everyone, including impetuous Will Ladislaw, is puzzling. Hints of unhappiness spill out of her characteristically reserved manner, as Mr. C, overreacting to jealousy and mistrust, behaves in a callous manner. Any of Dorothea’s natural spontaneity and joy disappear, as she comprehends her situation of living in a virtual tomb (p 475). Even the desire she once felt to learn from her husband’s abundance of knowledge has succumbed to a dread of his company (p 481). All of this is in stark contrast to Will’s world of warm activity and fellowship (p 475). Dorothea’s disillusionment with her marriage, along with the realization that her husband’s work will not be recognized or appreciated by the public, make her wary of agreeing to commit her life to the completion of his notes. An innate devotion, however, leads to a massive guilty reaction in the wake of his unexpected death. The slight optimism (when they walked together) at the end of Book 4 is crushed.

 

Dorothea’s remorse is compounded when she learns of her husband’s malicious will constraints…ironically, she begins to consider a new warmth and desire for Will, along with a violent shock of repulsion from her departed husband (p 490). If Mr. C had bothered to talk with his wife and discover her sentiments, his own suspicion and fears could have been laid to rest. I don’t think he ever knew about her passion for reform, which, if allowed to develop, would have given her great pleasure.

 

Now, Dorothea’s future, based on her overwhelming duty to uphold morality over discovery of her own desires, may be manipulated by the cold grasp of her husband’s dead hand. (P 493)

 

Who else is affected by Mr. Casaubon’s legacy? Will longs to be in the presence of Dorothea, a perfect woman (p 435). He accomplishes this wish by living with her uncle and succeeding as editor of a local political newspaper; and he discovers that he is gratified and energized by the uneasy, but exciting life of political drama. As a result of Mr. C’s will, however, Ladislaw is no longer welcome in Middlemarch. I don’t think he is immediately aware of the scheming reference to him in the will, but he clearly senses a change of attitude. In his own mind, Will speculates if he prefers Dorothea as vision, more than an experience of possessing her? As a dream of his political future engages his mind, he struggles how to part from Dorothea, his muse.

Tudy Hill

 

Book-Four

Together

Together

 

A potentially poignant word, together, closes Book 4…and I did not expect it. Dorothea, who cannot bear to think that any one should die, and leave no love behind (p 328), is heartbroken over her husband’s morose behavior towards her, following a medical visit from Lydgate. Her altruistic attitude about marriage is floundering, as she experiences a rebellious anger…instead of tears there came words- What have I done? What am I- that he should treat me so? … He wishes he had never married me. (P 426) Her expectation as helpmate in academic pursuits has faded, as Mr C’s lack of confidence and Dorothea’s pity for him is uncovered. Neither spouse felt fulfillment in the marriage. Neither anticipated joy, but it was not part of their courtship, either.

She saw her own and her husband’s solitude- how they had walked apart so that she was obliged to survey him. If he had drawn her towards him, she would never have surveyed him- never have said, Is he worth living for?…now she said bitterly, It is his fault, not mine. In the jar of her whole being, Pity was overthrown. (p 426) Mr C’s routine and concentration is disturbed by a change in lifestyle; and Dorothea’s interpretation of her role has adapted to an awareness of her husband’s failure (p 365) as an eminent scholar. Acceptance of her dreary situation, despite Will Ladislaw’s attempts to create a shared delight, makes me wonder if Dorothea has ever imagined herself as a sexual being? Ardor drove Will’s judgment, and Dorothea, innocently, sought his presence as a glimpse of the sunny air (p 361); while Mr C sunk into jealous anxiety. Then, Dorothea’s loyalty turned to tenderness, when her husband became ill, not a surprising reaction, given her earnest disposition. Three times, the author chose the phrase, Poor Mr Casaubon…and I was tempted to share Dorothea’s pity. But she revealed her own vulnerability while questioning Will about a portrait of his aunt Julia…eager to know if this enigmatic family member was happy in her own marriage (p 365)? Up until now, Dorothea’s only delight has been to plan land management and reforms among the laborers for her uncle. As book 4 ends, her pent-up emotion overcomes her usual restraint, and she gives way to anger…at this point, I was sure she might give up the vigil for an old and jealous husband. Yet her patient and quiet disposition return as she waits for him to come to bed, and even Mr C is touched by his wife’s good heart, and they went along the broad corridor together (p 427).

One “love problem” is fixed, for the moment.

 

I predict a different scenario for Rosamund and Lydgate, as she uses her allure to manipulate a marriage proposal. Caught in a gossamer web of love-making (p 346), the ambitious doctor invites unhappiness into his new life in Middlemarch. The beautiful bride anticipates material gain, while the naïve groom stands to lose his principles.

 

Dorothea may be the centerpiece of this novel, but Mary’s subtle qualities prove a close match. Mary’s humor and humility are endearing, as Fred Vincy appreciates. An attraction of opposites: one takes responsibility for her future (I must teach… p 400), while the other chooses indolence over opportunity. A resolution emerges, however, when Fred will be offered a position working for Mary’s trustworthy and practical father.

 

Tudy Hill

 

 

Book-Three

Picturesque…English style!

George Eliot, in Book 3, deals with the mortality, predictably, of Mr Causabon and Mr Featherstone, but also, surprisingly to me, of Fred. More importantly, these events serve to further her entertaining romantic plots. But, I digress, to reflect on a different aspect of our tale, based on a personal experience of living in England.

 

My husband and I own a 400 square foot cottage (actually, a row house) in St Albans, famous for Romans ruins, a medieval cathedral, and a bustling market, about ½ hour from London. We lived there for 11 years while he worked at the Hospital for Tropical Diseases. I learned the area by walking, particularly to two destinations where I spent most of my time, the cathedral (as a tour guide) and a local goat farm. I took for granted my lush, green and colorful surroundings where hedgerows predominate and birds sing from dawn till sunset. Our long, narrow garden faced south, towards the Abbey (in medieval days, the cathedral was an abbey where Benedictine monks lived), and we heard daily resonant bell chimes for Morning Prayer, noon Eucharist, Evensong, etc. Our yellow rose bush, wafting sweet scent, bloomed almost year round; snowdrops, crocuses and daffodils heralded spring; the huge lilac bush sent out its unique fragrance by the kitchen door; and the dense, vigorous hedge required a day of trimming three times a year (still does!). At least once a week, I walked 3 miles to a goat farm, which abuts the property of the Stanley Kubrick estate (where his widow still lives). I met the goat farmer in the Saturday market, where he rented a stall, selling all kinds of mouth-watering European cheeses, including his wife’s goat cheese. He was surprised when I got up the nerve to ask if I could visit the farm, but even more so when I actually showed up! I love the outdoors but I was not ‘farming-literate’, only curious to learn. He told me later that only an American would be so bold as to offer help, especially after he made clear that he couldn’t pay me, but the relationship and experience grew to a warm friendship with his family today. The trek from home to farm passed through neighborhoods of small, timbered/plastered bungalows, each boasting their own selection of English flowers. I think the most popular are the brightly colored, low-growing primroses and multi-hued roses. I also passed farms of crops, sheep and dairy, winding through a trail cut by medieval carts; of course, imagining who travelled this way before me, occupied my mind for hours! I helped the famer weed his land, cover it with goat manure to encourage healthy growth for fall harvesting of hay, plant trees in large spaces, more rose bushes…all of this energetic work after we had caught, milked and fed about 30+ goats. Late morning was learning from his wife how to make three different goat cheeses. Lunch at 1pm was a feast for the senses! My final chore was to feed the goats at the end of the day, before hiking home, exhausted but happy (with a backpack of fresh veggies).

 

The Abbey was my other home, at least 5 times a week. My journey was only ½ mile, through fancier neighborhoods of brick homes, with lovely gardens. I am impressed by the English flair for design, which just seems to happen on its own…colors mingle in a natural order that attracts wildlife, as well as human passers-by!

 

Compare the homestead of Caleb Garth (Mary’s family), described as rambling, halftimbered and, of course, the ubiquitous orchard (p. 242). On Sunday afternoon, my husband and I would take several large plastic bags (to pick up rubbish, mostly discarded soda cans and plastic bottles) and go off in search of another route to discover; blackberry bushes grow wild, so I am sure that Middlemarchers ate their fill, as well! Lowick (home of Mr Causabon), was entered by a long avenue of limes (p 273); these also line the main street of St Albans. Their ornamental quality adds greenery and vigor to a town center.

The great oak shadowing a bare place in mid-pasture ( p. 104) offers a more sobering image for me of the goat farm. Tragically, the famer died very suddenly, and his widow planted a small oak tree on his grave (which is on the farm) a favorite symbol of his for quiet and beautiful strength.

 

Returning to the US (Hamden, Ct) was a ‘landscape jolt’ for me. The barren, concrete highways and shopping malls take up too much space (granted, they exist in England, too), so I have begun to plant an English type garden of soft hues and fragrant scents in our back yard. And when I walk the dog, I appreciate every small attempt to return our city to nature.

 

I will close with the author’s depiction of her beloved landscape, which, thankfully, is still, familiar…(p 104)

The ride to Stone Court…pretty bit of midland landscape, almost all meadows and pastures, with hedgerows still allowed to grow in busy beauty and to spread out     coral fruit for the birds…. the high bank where the ash trees grew; the gray gate and          fences against the depths of the bordering wood; and the stray hovel, its old, old    thatch full of mossy hills and valleys with wondrous modulations of light and shadow         such as we travel far to see in late life, and see larger, but not more beautiful. These          are the things that make the gamut of joy in landscape to midland-bred souls.

 

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                   Tudy Hill

Book-Two

A bull, a brother, a rose and a swinging gate…

Meeting more characters can make my head whirl, until I noted some hints about their names that set me straight. Mr Bulstrode, local banker, barges his way into Middlemarch as a headstrong bull, spreading anxiety about who dares confront his judgments. He cannot boast family lineage, but he controls town finances and distances himself from the community with a superior, paternalistic attitude.

 

Friendly, sincere Mr Farebrother, rector of the parish, is not afraid to enjoy a game of whist or billiards, despite living in an era of small town evangelical customs. His tolerant behavior towards ‘the bull’ is as genuine as his devotion to his biological family of various single women. Referring to Bulstrode’s reason for disliking him, Mr Farebrother gives a direct response, without denigrating the banker’s nature, or being unkind.

 

Dr Lydgate enters the tale as a stranger to the village, immediately becoming an ideal linchpin for Eliot to weave her tale. The young physician appeals to Bulstrode and to the town, which counted on swallowing and assimilating him (p 154). But Lydgate’s ambition for medical reform, with an aim for the common good, confirms a distinctive quality about him (p 142). His plan of the future is to do good small work for Middlemarch, and great work for the world (p 149). Lydgate has a genuine interest in not only each patient as a person, but in their medical condition. Committed to both intellectual and practical pursuits, he pursues his goal of establishing a fever hospital. Early on, he faces the unwelcome dilemma of becoming involved in an election for hospital chaplain. Not wanting to make enemies, especially where medical reform might be concerned, he disregards the likeable Mr Farebrother and casts his very public vote for Mr Bulstrode’s choice. Lydgate’s impartial position continues to erode, when he makes mocking remarks to his colleagues about who is better qualified to be a coroner, the current lawyer or a modern doctor?

A lawyer is not better than an old woman at a post-mortem examination (p 157).

At this point, I was chuckling at such outbursts among civilized, educated, conventional men! Additionally, Lydgate’s youth and masculinity provide the obligatory romantic unfolding. Will his infatuation for certain women permit the survival of his dedication to a work ethic?

 

Rosamund, beautiful rose and cunning sweetheart, attracts the vulnerable doctor with her feminine charms. Her small feet and perfectly turned shoulders (p 158) blind him to the vulgarity of Rosamund’s mother. Further premonitions surface from her aunt Bulstrode, who…had two sincere wishes for Rosamund- that she might show a       more serious turn of mind, and that she might meet with a husband whose wealth          corresponded to her habits. (p 167) Sadly, this reminds me of the first disastrous marriage in Book 1, except now I am cheering for the potential groom in question.

 

A ‘swinging gate’ points to Lydgate’s position among the “Old and the New” members of Middlemarch society, and his facility to forge new links amongst them. He threatens shallow, professional identities (an older doctor’s ‘expert’ reputation based on a 30 year old calf-bound treatise on meningitis chapter 16). Romance may turn out to be his undoing, which reminds me of Dorothea, whose unwelcome realization of marriage to a dreary and self-serving elderly husband, contrasts sharply with energetic, handsome Will Ladislaw, who pays attention to her.

 

George Eliot’s keen analysis of human behaviour keeps me engaged and curious; I can imagine when the novel first appeared, and her readers had to wait between publications of the 8 books within Middlemarch. No electronic media to distract conversations about the story line… much as the ‘Downton Abbey’ series unites us today.

I at least have so much to do in unraveling certain human lots, and seeing how they were woven and interwoven, that all the light I can command must be concentrated on this particular web, and not dispersed over that tempting range of relevancies called the universe. (p 141)

I am beginning to comprehend Virginia Woolf’s comment about ‘this novel for grown-ups’. Eliot pours her whole imaginative self and intellect into a range of characters that inhabits a small area of England, giving enough time and opportunity for the reader to experience life at its full. My own sense of empathy, as well as delight in the author’s wit, is prodded into action. I am grateful for the challenge.

Tudy Hill

 

 

 

 

 

 

Book-One

Character Launch

Fiction offers me diversion and insight into our human journeys. I was initially attracted to this blog by Virginia Woolf’s quote about Middlemarch, as one of the few English novels written for grown-up people. I am curious what she means, and Woolf is an author whom my older daughter chose for her masters thesis. I liked Martha’s link with Moby Dick, which I have not read since AP English class in high school (late 1960s). Both books appear overly long and potentially arduous, but I recall my surprise at being attracted to an intellectual challenge. I look forward to sharing with you all, thanks to George Eliot’s wit and talent, another stealthy convergence of human lots (p 95), as we ponder Miss Brooke and friends over the summer.

What first caught my attention in Book 1? Authentic characters, with whom I could immediately relate! I count myself, along with St Theresa and Miss Brooke, an ardently willing soul (p. 3). As a 20 year old, I was naïve, idealistic, and drawn to morality; so I understand Dorthea’s passion to improve herself through knowledge and charitable action. But she is not always consistent (p 14).

Why does Dorothea sacrifice human emotion for what she imagines to be of more value, like building cottages, or choosing to marry an oracle (p 90), Mrs Cadwallader’s candid assessment of Mr Causabon? Is her life so uneventful and unimportant that individual fulfillment can be attained only by assisting this older man to organize his copious notes? Exposed to a toy box history of the world (p86), Dorothea longs for a teacher to satisfy her yearning to be a scholar (p 87). Celia empathizes with her sister’s rationale, but counters such pious sense of duty with clear judgment.

Celia’s pet name for Dorothea, Dodo, reveals an undercurrent of jest and irony. Despite the elder Miss Brooke’s earnest mind-set, who can take her seriously when she admits that fondness… is not the right word for the feeling I must have towards the man I would accept as a husband (p. 36). Nor can I understand her plan to marry someone so undemonstrative and full of moles and sallowness. At this point I moved from character- identity to a fascination in the author’s ability to amuse and have fun with her characters!

Mr Causabon’s response to his engagement is also worrisome… a hindrance to his great work (p63); he lays blame on Dorothea for his own want of male ardor; and he is weary (p 85). No surprise at Eliot’s description of his house: melancholy, in autumnal decline, exuding formal tenderness (p73-5). Through a lover’s eyes, Dodo sees only her deficiencies (p 75), not the fading soul of her intended. Several days later, she notices a sense of aloofness (p 88) in Mr C that alarms, but, once more, shuns her instinct.

As Dorothea and Mr C abruptly exit the story, Eliot introduces a whiff of fresh air with the entrance of Lydgate, Rosamund, and Fred Vincy. Animated (p 91)candor replaces pitiable acquiescence, and my spirits lifted… except for the poignant detail that Dorothea and Lydgate might have shared a zeal for reform.

Tudy Hill